Purge Your Thoughts Of the Life You Knew Before
by Draco's Addiction
Summary: WIP (abandoned) Right after the opera house is burned, Erik picks up the pieces of his life and tries to move on. Summary sucks. ErikOW. Rated M for future chapters, I hope.
1. Introduction

**A/N: Okay, this is my first Phan-Phic. I'm a little nervous about it. I have no idea where the story is going to go from here because it is still being written and I always insist on doing it the old fashioned way with pen and paper first. Okay then, on with the introduction.**

**Disclaimers: I own nothing, except the original characters. However, it would be nice to own Erik for my own personal, if not somewhat sick and twisted, uses. Oh, and another note, my phantom is based on the 2004 Gerard Butler movie, because I just can't see the phantom any other way. Mmmmmmmm………. Gerard. :drool:**

**----**

After the chandelier. After the fire. After the mob. After Christine…. There was nothing. His opera house had burned beyond recognition, and thus, his whole life's work crumbled around him. The mob had found his lair and destroyed everything. His furniture, his clothing, but more importantly, his compositions and his organ.

He watched silently from a hidden perch near the top of the cave as they piled every scrap of paper they could find, whether it was music, his poetry, his sketches, nothing was left. A giant pile was stacked on the beautiful swam shaped bed and then set ablaze.

It didn't really bother him to see the fire. He knew all of his work was etched in his mind and could easily be rewritten. But a look of complete and utter horror crossed his face as one member of the mob picked up the life-like mannequin of Christine and tossed it into the flames. He looked on to see the face of the doll. The face of Christine, begin to blacken and melt. He shed silent tears as the mob danced around the fire, taunting him, thinking him to be dead. Though they had not seen his body, they assumed the only way Raoul and Christine could escape would be if the Phantom was dead, never once believing he would willingly let them go. In a way, he thought, they were right….

The Phantom was dead.

He knew things would never be the same again.

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**I know that was really short, but it was just the intro anyway. So, let me know what you think. The next chapter should be up soon. I hope.**


	2. Bittersweet

**A/N: First of all I would like to dedicate this chapter to the ONE AND ONLY person that reviewed the first chapter. So, thank you "lotrfanfreak" I'm glad you like the story so far and I hope that I don't disappoint you with this chapter.**

**Once again with the disclaimer: I own nothing, though I would not mind having my own private Gerard all to myself. The song lyrics are from the song "Bittersweet" by HIM featuring Apocalyptica and Lauri Y from "The Rasmas." I wouldn't mind taking Ville Valo home with me either…. But, anyway. The lyrics of the song are really important. When I heard the lyrics for the first time, I knew that I wanted to use them for this story. They convey a feeling that I could never put into text. I highly suggest downloading the song so you can hear it for yourself.**

**Well, anyway, enough with my rambling. On with the story:**

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A thin layer of sweat covered his bare torso as he bent over his work. Over the weeks, he had set himself the task of cleaning up his lair. That is, after spending a few days hiding in his elevated hole, fearing people may return to loot or cause more damage to his underground home.

Once he finally let himself down from his perch, the severity of the damage hit him even harder. His possessions had been reduced to rubble and ashes. His organ had been beaten and dented beyond recognition. Looking upon the heap made him remember when the mobs had attacked it with sticks, pitchforks, anything they could use to cause damage. He was still haunted by the horrible chords that had erupted from the instrument as the attackers pounded the keys, breaking them and scattering them around the floor, while the sounds melded with that of the smashing of the pipes, turning the onslaught into a horrible symphony of pain, anger, hate and destruction. His stomach churned at the memory.

He spent days, wandering the rooms, trying to find something, anything, that could be salvaged. He explored the opera house, finding anything that had been spared from the fire. When at last he ventured onto the stage, the sight brought him to his knees. The world that had been crested for his opera was gone. The sets had burned, leaving nothing of his opus behind.

Looking out into the theatre, he could see seats that were once crimson and gold now reduced to piles of black and gray. The beautiful chandelier that once graced the top of the house was in pieces, shards of broken glass littering the floor all around. The ceiling above, once depicting a beautiful blue sky specked with white clouds and cherubs was now a dreary grey from the fire smoke and a hole in the roof showed him the night sky outside.

As the moon came through and a single beam rested upon his face: his unmasked, scarred face, he sang silently to the empty theatre:

_I'm giving up the ghost of love_  
_In the shadows cast on devotion_

_She is the one that I adore_  
_Creed of my silent suffocation_

_Break this bittersweet spell on me_  
_Lost in the arms of destiny_

_Bittersweet_  
_I won't give up_  
_I'm possessed by her_

_I'm bearing her cross_  
_She's turned into my curse_

_Break this bittersweet spell on me_  
_Lost in the arms of destiny_

_Bittersweet_  
_I want you_  
_I wanted you_  
_And I need you_  
_I needed you_

_Break this bittersweet spell on me_  
_Lost in the arms of destiny_  
_Break this bittersweet spell on me_  
_Lost in the arms of destiny_

He watched, as he sang the face of the moon transformed into that of Christine. He knew he would never see her again. She had left with her precious Raoul and he had let them go. At the end he knew he could never give her the life of light and happiness that she wanted.

As the last chords of his voice rang through the ruins of the Opera Populair, he silently wished that the Gods would help him forget her. He wanted to be let go from his Angel of Music.

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**Okay, that was chapter two. Whatcha think? Review and let me know. More to come soon, I hope.**


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